Coffee + Run + Yoga on the Beach = ahhhhh

I woke up to the smell of strong coffee and the sound of....nothing. The quiet enveloped me as morning sun shined through the skylights. Coffee, quiet, sleeping past 6 a.m.....I must be in Maine.

After a few cups of coffee and a slice of toast, I forced myself to do a little reading for class (this week's book is nowhere near as compelling as last week's) before heading out for a run. I'd put on my running clothes as soon as I woke up, so there'd be no bailing out on this one.

The interesting thing about running is that almost every time I head out, I feel like I'm doing it for the first time. I have that stupid hesitation of, "what if I can't even run a mile?", followed by settling into a familiar rhythm, followed by that good old feeling of exhiliration and a racing heart. It baffles me that I've been doing this for 13 years and it still so often feels new to me.

It was pretty cold this morning and my fingers were numb. The wind drew tears from my eyes and my nose felt frozen. I ran down Long Sands Road, now almost desolate and devoid of beach goers and surfers but for a few hearty, down-jacketed walkers braving the icy shoreline. Last time I ran along this stretch it was August, sunny, and hot. The beach was packed with surfers and families and leather-colored retirees who'd been there since May. You could barely cross the street, let alone find a spot on the sand. Today, in sharp contrast, you could have sat in the middle of the street, undisturbed for hours. The beach was barren, grey and quiet. The overwhelming feeling was one of solitude.

As I kept running I thought about the good fortune we have in New England, in that we are able to experience seasons. They give us structure and a demarcation of time, a cyclical sense of life moving forward, but coming back to those same familiar points each year. And it's not just a matter of putting up or taking down Christmas decorations or shoveling snow; it's the sensuous experience of smelling the salty summer air or crisp autumn wind, hearing rustling leaves or ice crunching beneath our feet, tasting the first ice cream of summer or the first hot chocolate of winter, and feeling scratchy woolen sweaters, stretchy bathing suits, rubbery flip-flops, or cozy scarves and mittens. The whole body and mind experience the changes in season, and we don't have the chance to become complacent with one before we're awaiting the next.

Back on the beach after running five miles and several hills, I had warmed up significantly. There were a few people walking along the sand, and an almost silent comeraderie among us as we inhaled the refreshing cold air and savored the serene horizon of the Atlantic. My mind felt clear and peaceful, my body felt energized and strong, and my spirit felt renewed. Moreover, these feelings occured synergistically, and I was acutely aware of the harmony of mind, body and spirit. To me, this is the closest thing to Heaven on Earth.

On Meditation, Friendship, & Reflection

It's been almost a full month since my last "real" run. Struggling through a few miles on the treadmill each morning has become my pathetic routine, and I barely remember a time when I woke up, piled on several layers of fleece, and actually ran for an hour or more along the dark, icy, snowy streets of Boston. But as I finished off a fun Saturday night with friends and headed home to bed last night, I knew I'd be running the today.

This morning - a clear, wintry Sunday morning - brought spring-like weather and dressing for an outdoor run felt completely natural to me, like I hadn't missed a day. As soon as my feet hit the pavement, it was like being in the embrace of a long-lost friend. That feeling never goes away.

So much to think about as I headed towards the hills of Newton and enjoyed the sunshine glaring off the melting snow. This process of "discernment" through which I am traveling is at times exciting and at most other times exhausting, overwhelming, and totally confusing. Guess what I have figured out so far? I don't know what I want to be when I grow up!

In the Christian sense, Discernment (with a capital "D") is a term used to describe the process of finding God's will for one's life, in particular, married or single life, religious or secular life. In the broader sense, it is the act of seeking insight and understanding, and, I might add, purpose. This seems to me like something anyone can do, whether they are spiritually inclined or not, whether they believe in God and God's will or not. For me, the process of discernment has been a journey of discovery and a time of trying to figure out what it is I am "called" to do or "meant" to do. What is it that is in my heart to do? What kind of work or life will bring me happiness and satisfaction and joy? I don't mean ease, I mean profound joy.

It is said that sometimes not getting an answer is your answer, and much of my journey has felt like that. As I try to listen to what I'm being called to do, I get frustrated and impatient that there are not clearer signs. Is it to much to ask for a billboard along the Mass Pike that will tell me my purpose in life? ;) I'm finding it a challenge to listen - to God, to the universe, to my heart - and I'm working on that. How do I know what to listen for? How do I know when I'm being "spoken to"?

So I keep searching, and one of the things that I have learned for sure is that it's like casting seeds to the wind. I don't know which of my ideas or connections will take root; the important thing is that I am making these connections and sewing these seeds of ideas, and looking for fertile ground that will nourish and grow my ideas.

What is this fertile ground? Right now, it is the support of my close friends and family, the people who listen to me and nudge me forward, encouraging me to take risks and listen to my instincts. It is the serendipitous conversations with strangers that leave me asking myself something and pondering it for days. It is the meaningful and fleeting connections with people I know, though maybe not well, that awaken an interest in me and push me to learn more.

And there is the dry earth, so to speak...the places where my ideas do not take root, the places where a door closes and an opportunity is lost, the moments when a relationship changes or a possibility withers and I'm aware that whatever it is I was pursuing is not going anywhere. But these moments, though painful, are equally important as those that encourage and inspire me. These moments push me to redirect my path and see what else may lie ahead, knowing that sometimes that can be done only if I let go of what lies behind.

I run 3 miles more than intended - up over Heartbreak Hill, past St. Ignatius, and down Lake Street. It feels like Spring and I'm completely recharged, knowing that what lies ahead can never really be known, and knowing that what lies behind can only be learned from.